


Our Boy

by ourcrashdownblue



Series: Brave Boy [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because Jack's mental age is messy, Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Crying Jack Kline, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester Loves Jack Kline, Fluff and Angst, Guilty Dean Winchester, Human Jack Kline, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's a sin that that's not a tag yet, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Bonding, Jack Kline Gets a Hug, Jack Kline Needs A Hug, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Touching, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape Aftermath, Underage Rape/Non-con, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: Jack, Dean, Sam, and Cas deal with the aftermath of "Pretty Boy".  Jack's fathers give their son the closure and comfort he deserves.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Brave Boy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778860
Comments: 10
Kudos: 149





	Our Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or reserve any rights. I hope you enjoy!

It was four in the morning when Dean finally glided his baby into the Men of Letters garage. He took the key out of the ignition and dumped it in his pocket. With the roar of the engine gone, his ears felt like they’d been stuffed with cotton and his body buzzed in the stillness. The hunter looked up in the rearview mirror and a breath caught in his throat.

Cas was huddled up in the backseat, kiddy-corner to Dean, shoulder scrunched up against the window in a way that’d have been painful if he were human. But the angel didn’t seem at all concerned with himself, all his attention on the boy sleeping on him draped in the angel’s trench coat. The angel was carding his fingers through Jack’s hair with one hand, the other wrapped securely around the boy’s waist.

“We’re home,” Dean said, voice breaking the five hour silent streak they’d been on since they’d fled the motel.

Pained blue eyes met Dean’s and the angel nodded. Dean scrubbed his face when something clenched under his ribs and he had to look away from the two of them.

“He’s sleeping so soundly…” Cas muttered, voice impossibly gruffer from disuse.

“Alright, sit tight,” Dean said.

Good, he could do this. He could help this way. Dean opened, exitted, and closed the driver’s door as quietly as possible. He rounded the hood, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to any god ( _not_ Chuck) with their ears on that his baby had gotten his family home safe once again. He opened Cas’s door and dropped down to a crouch, looking up at the angels. Jesus, why did the Jack look so tiny all curled up under Cas’s coat like that? And, fuck, he looked _pale_ , too.

“Why don’t you shimmy out, and...and I’ll carry him in, huh? No sense waking him, kid’s had a long enough day.”

The angel’s brow furrowed slightly.

“I can carry him, Dean. With my grace, he’s utterly weightless to me--”

“Please, Cas,” Dean scratched a thumb across his chin, steeling his features before looking back at the sleeping boy, “Just...Just let me do this, okay? I can at least do this for him.”

“Dean,” Cas began, and Dean knew that tone all too well, “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, then whose fault was it, Cas? Because when the kid needed me I was sitting in our room with my thumb up my ass watching _I Love Lucy_ reruns!” Dean hissed, “So who’s fault is that?! Mine!”

Cas’s jaw tightened, “It is the fault of the _assailant_ who’s lifeless body is lying on the ground five hours northwest of here, Dean. Still soaked in the urine he expelled when I _killed_ him. It was his fault. _Not_ yours.”

Dean ground his teeth and he rolled his eyes.

“Are you gonna get out of the car or what?”

Cas held Dean’s eye with an equally stubborn look of his own before huffing in defeat then began the delicate process of extricating himself out from under his son. After finally lowering Jack’s head to the leather seat, the angel stepped back to let Dean take over.

The hunter stood, bent over and slowly gathered up Jack and all his limbs in his arms. Jack began to murmur, his head lolled, but he never opened his eyes.

“ _D-Dean?_ ” God, his voice was so hoarse.

“Shhh, I gotcha, kid. We’re home now, no worries. Go back to sleep, buddy, I’m just carrying you inside, alright?”

Jack’s arms instinctively went up to wrap around Dean’s neck and the hunter was fairly sure he felt the boy nod against his shoulder before he went all ragdoll again.

Dean backed up a step or two before standing up to avoid bumping his head on his baby’s roof. Jack was heavier than Dean had expected, and he could feel his old, hunter’s back pop and protest a little as he straightened back up. Cas readjusted his trench coat around the boy’s shoulders and Dean scooched Jack further up his chest, Jack’s legs wrapping around the hunter’s waist in his sleep. A gripping wave of protectiveness washed over him when he felt Jack’s breath snuffle against his neck. 

Good lord, Dean hadn’t held anybody like this since Sammy was still carrying a teddy bear.

“I’ll grab Jack’s backpack,” Cas said, voice already a low enough rumble that whispering wasn’t really even necessary.

“Yeah, Sammy can grab the rest.”

~

Dean had called Sam right before they’d left the motel room when Dean still had the privacy to give Sam the rundown of the situation without making Jack listen. It’d taken a place in his top ten most difficult phone calls to make. Luckily, Sam hadn’t taken off for St. Louis yet and was able to call in a hunter buddy to take over what was most likely a vamp nest on the edge of the city. Sam had also promised to call Mary who was out in Washington, elbows-deep in a ‘shifter case. Dean had readily taken the small mercy. 

It was no surprise that they came home to Sam pacing by the map table. Sam had dimmed the lights in the bunker, more than enough to see by but not nearly as fluorescent as usual. Dean mentally saluted his brother for his forethought. But even in the dusky lighting, Dean didn’t miss the worry in the big brown eyes that shot up to watch them descend the staircase. 

Horror took over his brother’s features when he saw Dean carrying Jack which, Dean supposed, was a fair reaction since the brothers were only ever _carried_ through that hatch if they were dead or dying.

“He’s fine,” Dean waved a dismissive hand before his brother could say a word, “Just fell asleep in the car.”

“So...you carried him?” There was no hint of mocking in Sam’s voice like there might’ve been in any other circumstance, this question was just a gut reaction.

Yeah, Dean knew this probably looked weird and that Dean wasn’t exactly known for doing mother-hen shit like this, but he was damned if he was letting the kid out of his arms anywhere that wasn’t the safety of his bed.

Dean ignored the question.

“We’re gonna take him to his room, can you grab the duffels?”

Sam nodded wordlessly, and Dean could feel his brother’s eyes watching them until they disappeared into the hallway.

Though they walked in silence, Dean was more than a little grateful to feel the angel and his equally protective nature so close by. Nothing was gonna touch Jack ever again. Not some rapist with hair gel, not Lucifer, not even God himself. Anything that wanted to hurt Jack would have to go through them first.

~

“And you found him like _that_?” Sam asked, face ashen.

Dean nodded, and took another pull from his beer. The brothers leaned against the hallway outside Jack’s door, voices at a whisper. After Dean had settled Jack into his bed, the hunter had suddenly felt his skin start to crawl and knew he had to get out of there. He just needed a minute to clear his head, a few seconds of not looking down into that trusting pale face and feeling the guilt like a stone in his stomach.

Cas had hung back to unpack Jack’s things--and, Dean suspected, to stay in the boy’s presence a little bit longer. After Dean had stepped out into the hallway, Sam soon came around the corner with two beers--and a lot of questions Dean _so_ did not want to answer right now.

“And he...he hasn’t said anything about it?”

“Nope,” Dean glared straight down at the scuff on his boot, “Other than to tell us that the motherfucker hadn’t...y’know, _touched_ him anywhere else when Cas asked.”

Cas had his trench coat pulled back into place when he shuffled out of the boy’s room, quietly closing the door behind him. He looked at the brothers with pitiful eyes.

“I used my grace. Jack will sleep through the night,” he stated solemnly.

Dean pushed away from the wall, bobbing his head toward the kitchen and not looking back to see if either followed.

“So what are we gonna do,” Sam finally asked once they reached the kitchen.

Dean threw open the refrigerator, but his stomach rolled at the sight of food. Instead he grabbed out a second beer and hopped up onto the steel counter, letting his head fall back onto one of the poles.

The haggard angel slumped into a seat at the table, chin resting on his clasped hands as he stared at the opposite wall.

“Honestly? No clue,” Dean said, “I mean, we already killed the guy and ditched the town, so all that’s left...is to pick up the pieces, I guess. But how…”

“Should we, uh, would it be a good idea to talk to him in the morning?” Sam had ceased his pacing, opting to lean against the wall across from Dean and steadily nursed his own beer.

“Yes,” the angel sighed, “Jack is sure to have...questions. His mind is, no doubt, in turmoil.”

Dean fidgeted with the corner of the beer label

“I second, Cas, on this one. I mean, we gotta start somewhere, right? We need to get some kind of baseline to see how much this is gonna fuck with the kid’s head,” Dean immediately winced at his word choice, and he could hear the sharp intake from his brother, “Shit, sorry.”

“If we are to be of any help to Jack tomorrow, you two need to rest,” Cas said, eyes softening as he surely took in Dean’s whole goddamn _twitchy_ demeanor.

“Cas’s right,” Sam ran a hand through his long hair and Dean found he didn’t even have the mental wherewithal to internally mock the giant, “We’re no use to him dead on our feet.”

Sam shuffled in place for a moment longer before giving a curt nod to his brother and the angel and leaving.

Dean had started in on his second beer, but everything tasted sour. 

“Tell me it’s gonna be okay, Cas,” Dean murmured, “Tell me this isn’t gonna be the thing that breaks him.”

“I...I don’t know, Dean. I...wish I had the answers,” the angel’s voice was heavy, like the weight of his eons of existence was suddenly crushing him.

“Yeah, buddy...me, too.”

~

From the ache in his bones, and the rumpling of his clothes, Dean figured that he’d conked out the minute he’d thrown his boots to the side and fallen on his bed. He was lying face first in the pillow, bed still fully made beneath him, with a wet patch of drool at the corner of his mouth. Gross.

But...what woke him--?

“ _St-Stop! Nnooo--Ca--Dee--!_ ”

Dean bolted from the bed, socked feet charging down the hallway before his brain had even caught up to the fact that he was awake.

Jack’s moaning echoed through the ancient halls, sending cold sweat down the hunter’s back. Sirens sounded in his brain as he tried to reassess his surroundings. Had the Bunker been broken into? Had the warding failed? Was there gonna be blood? _What the fuck is going on?_

Without even realizing his feet had been carrying him there, Dean stomped through Jack’s open bedroom door. He nearly ran into Sam, whose room was closer, and had stopped in the doorway. And, of course, it looked like Cas had mojo-ed himself there before either of them since he was already perched on the edge of the boy’s bed.

“What’s going on?” Dean’s voice crackled from disuse.

“Nightmare,” Sam whispered, head hung.

Cas was ignoring both brothers, staring down at Jack’s restless body with pained eyes.

“I thought you said you grace-d him? What the hell, Cas?!” Dean said in a hushed bark.

“He’s half-archangel, _Dean_ , even without his grace...” Cas hissed, levelling the hunter with sharp eyes before turning a much softer gaze back to the boy, “And this scared? His mind and soul are far from typical in how they react with angelic grace...”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he counted to ten. This wasn’t Cas’s fault. _This wasn’t Cas’s fault._

“Caa…?” Jack groaned, eyes squinching tight, fists unknowingly reaching out and balling up in the angel’s coat.

Cas stroked a strand of the boys’ dark blond hair off his forehead.

“I am here, Jack,” Cas soothed, “It was just a nightmare.”

“You’re safe, buddy,” Sam lowered his giant body to sit on the other edge of the bed, leaning over to run a grounding hand over Jack’s shoulder.

Jack’s red-rimmed eyes fluttered open. 

The boy’s hazy baby blues flashed between the angel and his brother, “Cas? Sam?” and then over to Dean, “Dean?”

“Hey, kid,” Dean croaked, he wanted to say more but...well, words were bitch sometimes.

“You’re in the Bunker, Jack,” Cas said, “You’re safe, you can rest.”

Jack shuttered, a few unshed tears slipping down and soaking into the pillow.

“We’re right here. It’s alright,” Sam added.

Sammy’s hands started to fuss with and tuck in the blankets at Jack’s shoulder like the papa bear Dean knew his brother could be with Jack sometimes. Jack still looked only semi-awake as he scooched back under the covers until his back pressed into the younger Winchester.

“Will you...will you stay with me,” the boy’s eyes hesitantly darted between the three men and Dean was nodding before the word ‘yes’ had even surfaced in his brain, “Please?”

“Of course, Jack,” Cas replied.

Sam was nodding too as he sung his long legs up onto the bed, effectively creating a Great Wall of Sam between the boy and the door. Cas gave Jack’s hair one last stroke before rising off the bed and walking over to the desk.

“Dean, you take my place,” he gestured to the now-empty side of Jack’s bed, “I will take the chair since I do night require sleep. And my vessel cannot become sore.”

Any other day Dean might’ve put up a fight, some kind of protest about getting in a bed with two other dudes--but this wasn’t any other day. Any argument died on his lips when he locked onto the two wide eyes peeking out at him above the covers. Yeah, closer was better. Closer was safer.

But it didn’t look like sleep was in the cards for him anymore.

Dean nodded, “Scooch over, kid.”

The older Winchester rounded the bed, lips quirked ever so slightly at the sight of Jack wriggling backwards to make room for Dean until the boy’s back was nearly flushed with Sam’s chest. This bed was definitely not made to fit the bodies of two grown men, let alone three. Especially not guys of his and Sammy’s stature.

Though it took a little maneuvering and more than a few limb rearrangements, the three finally settled relatively comfortably. Sam was sidled up behind Jack, wrapped around the boy in a shape like a two-person lightning bolt. The way his brother’s wide shoulders and big arms damn near encased the boy reminded Dean of a robin huddled over its egg. Jack had sagged against Sam, looking perfectly content to let the younger Winchester’s body be composed enough for the both of them.

Dean slouched against the headboard, a pillow propped up behind him with his body tilted toward Jack. Not a minute in and Jack’s head shifted off the pillow to lay on Dean’s stomach, soft nose poking into the little bit of pudge the hunter had going. Dean let out a soft chuckle at the look of pure relaxation that seemed to wash over the boy’s face as sleep quickly started to slacken his features. 

A new white-hot streak of protectiveness zapped through Dean when he let his fingers card through the soft hair that made a halo against his t-shirt. Jack, Sam, Cas...these were his people. _His_ . And they were _his_ responsibility. He’d never fail them so terribly ever again.

Dean glanced up at Cas. The angel was leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on his thighs. Cas’s blue eyes--the ones Dean would’ve sworn Jack had inherited from the angel if he didn’t know better--raked over the three. That was fair, they probably did make quite a bizarre sight all squished in together like sardines in a tin.

Dean let his eyes slip closed, one hand resting above Sam’s head on the pillow and the other still tangled in the boy’s hair. Dean needed to rest for the morning ahead. They were safe, for now. They had an angel watching over them, after all.

~

To Dean’s surprise, he had gotten more sleep than he’d expected. Granted, every time Jack shifted or snuffled in his sleep, Dean was immediately on red alert. But as soon as he processed that, no, Jack’s sleep-steady breath was still puffing warmly against his t-shirt, the hunter didn’t seem to have any problem dozing off again.

The second time the hunter woke up that morning it was to a hot breath washing over his collarbone where the neck of his shirt had gotten rucked down in the night. When Dean’s heavy eyelids finally rolled open the first thing he saw was that the little digital clock on the bedside table read: _8:30am_. The next thing his mind latched onto was that he was looking at the room from a whole different angle. It seemed his body had slid down the bed and he now found himself lying on his side with his head on the edge of Jack’s pillow. And Jack was wrapped up in his arms. The boy’s body flush to Dean’s, chest-to-chest, Jack’s face burrowed into the hunter’s neck.

Dean peeked over the top of the kid’s fluffy hair and saw that Sam was nowhere to be found. His eyes widened and he lifted his head to look at the desk chair. Cas was MIA too. Jack started to squirm.

“ _Deean?_ ” Jack mumbled.

The kid’s eyes were still closed but his brow was furrowed, nose trying to push even closer into the hunter’s neck. Dean absently ran a sleep-heavy arm he’d, apparently, slung over the kid up and down his spine. It’d been years-- _Jesus_ \--since Dean had woken up with someone else in his arms, and it had always been under wholly different circumstances.

“Right here, kid,” Dean rumbled, “Go back to sleep.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he was wishin’ on a star that Jack would go back to sleep for his sake or Dean’s because once the kid woke up...well, Dean wasn’t sure he was ever gonna be ready to have that conversation. But this--holding the kid, making sure he felt safe, using his actions instead of his words--this was something he could do. Dean had never really been cuddly with the kid--or anyone for that matter--but he found he didn’t really have any fucks to give about that. If this was what Jack needed from him, Dean would give it to him. Dean would happily rip out his own goddamn kidney for the kid if that’s what it took to magically fix this whole clusterfuck. 

But it looked like he and Jack weren’t that lucky today.

“Dean?” At least the boy’s voice didn’t sound nearly as wrecked this morning. Dean shivered. Nevertheless, a cup of something hot wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Where is Sam? A-And Cas?” The hunter could feel Jack’s eyelashes tickle his skin every time the kid blinked.

“I, uh--” Dean licked his lips. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? “Dunno.”

A beat of silence buzzed in Dean’s ears. Jack’s arms were pinned between them and he felt the boy’s fingers start to fidget with the hunter’s t-shirt collar. Dean’s arms pulled the boy a tad closer.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Are--” Jack’s mouth clicked when he gulped, “Will Sam and Cas want to talk...about _it_?”

Dean sighed against the boy’s hair.

“Yeah, Jack.”

“But...what if I don’t want to talk about it…?” Dean might not have even heard the words if Jack hadn’t been no more than two inches from the hunter’s ear.

_You and me both, bud._

“I think you’ll feel better if you do.”

_I hope._

“But--but…” Dean realized what was happening a second before the first sob wracked Jack’s body, “I-I don't wanna... _please_ …”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Even though there wasn’t an inch between them, Dean squeezed the boy impossibly closer, “I gotcha. I gotcha.”

The way Jack was shaking against him had the hunter scared shitless. Dean was powerless. There was nothing he could do to make this better. Nothing he could do to hit rewind and just walk the kid to get his fucking root beer like he shoulda done in the first place.

“It _hurt_ , Dean…” _cough_ “it still hurts…”

“God, I’m sorry, kid. I’m _so_ sorry,” Dean croaked, cupping the back of his boy’s head.

“I f-feel so... _bad_ . M-My stomach _hurts_ , Dean,” Jack whimpered, hands flexing over his stomach between them, “And-and I don’t _understand_ …!”

This kid was gonna kill him.

“I know, buddy. I’m so sorry. But...that’s why we gotta talk about it, okay?” Dean cleared his throat and willed some steadiness back into his voice, “When Cas and Sammy get back we’re just gonna sit and talk for awhile, alright? You can ask us any questions you got...and if there’s something you _really_ don’t wanna talk about, we won’t. Capisce?”

Jack nodded against the hunter and took in a shaky deep breath.

“And when we’re done, we’re done, okay? When you’ve hit your limit, you just let us know and we’ll call it quits for the day. We can watch a movie or whatever you want, okay? Not talk about it the rest of the day if you don’t want. I promise.”

The boy nodded again.

“Yes, Dean.”

~

When Sam and Cas re-emerged they were carrying breakfast. Once the older Winchester and the boy had untangled themselves from one another Dean made to get up. But as soon as Dean had sat up and started to swing his legs over the bed, a tug on his sleeve had stopped him. 

“Stay?” 

Well that decided that.

Dean propped up against the headboard once again and let the kid lean back against him. Sam handed Jack one of the old Men of Letters tin trays with a plate of scrambled eggs, a glass of orange juice, and a big bowl of Krunch Cookie Crunch. Jack had taken the tray with a ‘thank you’ and set it on his lap. 

He hadn’t touched it since.

Dean took the cup of coffee Cas offered him and buckled in for a bumpy ride.

“Not hungry, buddy?” Sam asked with a sad smile as he pulled the desk chair over to sit backwards in it.

Jack shook his head with a small smile that didn’t meet his eyes either.

“How are you...feeling, Jack?” Cas asked from where he sat on the other edge of the bed.

Jack’s eyes dropped to his lap where his fingers picked at a loose thread in the afghan.

“Even though I know you used your grace...my jaw still hurts,” he said, quiet enough that Sam was leaning closer to hear, “But that doesn’t make sense.”

Dean felt his grip tighten around his mug, the image of that bastard with his...in Jack’s mouth like that flashed before his mind’s eye, mocking him. He ground his teeth together.

“May I?” Cas reached out a hand to gesture to the boy’s jaw.

Jack slowly nodded and jutted his chin out a little. The angel laid a featherlight touch to the bolt of his jaw before withdrawing his hand.

“It doesn’t feel any different,” Jack’s frowned.

Cas tucked a flyaway hair behind the boy's ear.

“I fear that’s no longer a physical pain, Jack, but a psychological one,” the angel’s troubled eyes only conveyed a fraction of the whirlwind Dean was sure was spinning in his best friend’s brain.

“So it’s...never gonna go away?” Jack’s lip quivered as he stroked a finger over where the angel had touched him.

“It will go away,” Cas reassured, “...but it will take time.”

Dean cleared his throat and set his mug down on the bedside table. Even coffee was making him sick.

“So,” Dean began, “I told Jack that this would mostly be a Q&A situation. He could ask us...stuff and we’d do our best to give him an answer.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Sam said.

Dean squeezed his hand where it was resting on the boy’s forearm, “Got any questions for us, kid?”

“A lot of things don’t make sense,” the boy muttered, but turned his eyes up to the older Winchester, “Was what that man did...was that sex?”

Dean’s heart clenched and he carded a hand through the boy’s hair, eyes darting to the angel and his brother for some kinda lifeline.

“No…” Cas titled his head, looking like he was trying to string together the right words from a bowl of alphabet soup, “Though the... _act_ was sexual in nature--”

“Because you didn’t consent to it--didn’t _want_ it--” Sam added.

“It doesn’t count as sex,” Dean said firmly, “What that fucker did...that’s called ‘rape’.”

“Rape?”

Dean nearly felt his coffee climb back up his esophagus at the sound of that word coming from the boy’s mouth.

“Yeah, when someone does a sexual act to another person who doesn’t want it--that’s rape,” Sam wasn’t meeting Jack’s eyes.

Jack was chewing on his lip and picking at the thread with more vigor.

“Are all ‘sexual acts’--do they all...hurt like that?”

“Nononono,” Sam reached out a calming hand to pat the boy’s blanket-covered foot, “Sex is not a bad or-or a scary thing. Not when the people involved _consent_ to it.”

“Sex was created as a way to form new life,” Cas said with a small spark in his eye, “But it was also made as a gift to creation for humans to connect through intimacy.”

“It should never be like... _that_ when you have sex,” Dean said solemnly.

“But...why would someone do that?” Jack was starting to shiver and Dean felt the boy press closer into his chest. Dean brought a hand over the boy’s chest to hold him closer. The shivering stopped,“I was scared...and it... _hurt_. Why would someone hurt someone else like that?”

Fury ripped through Dean’s stomach. He didn’t have the answers Jack wanted. He didn’t help Jack when the boy needed him and he couldn’t even answer this one fucking question.

“Because some monsters are human, Jack,” Cas sighed.

Jack turned back to look at Dean with wide eyes, dewy with new tears.

“I…” the boy’s voice cracked, “I’ve fought monsters before...w-why wasn’t I brave enough to fight this one, Dean?”

Jack’s face crumpled and fell into his hands, little breathy sobs echoing in the room. When he started to twist to get closer to Dean, Cas swiftly removed the untouched tray and set it on the floor. Dean scooped up the boy, practically dumping the shaking kid right into his lap. 

“Shh, I gotcha,” Dean tucked his chin over the boy’s shoulder, “Jack it was never about being brave, okay? You could be the bravest, most...most fucking _heroic_ person on the planet--you could be a goddamn _cowboy-warrior-badass_...and the monsters might still get the drop on you sometimes.”

“If I’d still had my powers I wouldn’t have let someone do that to me…” Jack mumbled against the hunter’s shoulder.

“You didn’t _let_ that man harm you, Jack,” Cas said.

“Some things are just...out of our control, buddy,” Sam added.

“But you’ve been so brave,” Cas’s sad eyes glimmered with pride as he entwined his fingers with Jack’s where the boy’s one hand lay limp at his side, “You’re so intrinsically good at heart, so full of love. You’ve been so brave all of your short life, Jack.”

“And that bravery is what’s gonna get you through this, kid,” Dean murmured into the boy’s hair.

“And you’re not gonna go through this alone, buddy,” Sam’s eyes were red too.

“We all care for you,” Cas said, “We will be here whenever you need us.”

“I know I failed you once, kid,” Dean fought down the lump swelling in his throat, “But I promise, never again, okay?”

Jack pulled just far enough out of the hunter’s arms for Dean to drown the boy’s misty blues.

“How did you fail me, Dean? You and Cas saved me.”

“I shoulda been there long before then,” Dean sighed, “I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

Jack tilted his head, face morphing from sad to a perplexed puppy.

“You rescued me, Dean. You carried me from the car, you made me feel safe while I slept. I’ve needed you this whole time and you’ve been right here.”

Dean huffed a laugh even as he felt a tear trek down his cheek. He swiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and pulled the kid back down to his chest.

“Alright, kid,” Dean pressed his lips to the boy’s hair, “you win.”

Dean couldn’t meet the eyes of either the angel or his brother as he found himself rocking Jack in his arms like he used to do when Sammy was little. Jack’s crying had stopped, but the boy was still as limp as a fish against the hunter.

A silence fell over the four, Jack’s snuffles getting fainter and fainter with each passing minute. Dean could feel the exhaustion in his bones now that the knots in his stomach had loosened a little.

“Can--Can we ‘call it quits’ now?” Jack said, slightly muffled against the hunter’s shirt.

“Yeah, buddy,” Dean chuckled, “We can be done for today.”

Craned his head back to look at the hunter,“Could we watch _Tombstone_?”

Dean threw his head back in a laugh that did wonders for his soul.

“ _Now_ you’re speaking my language, kid.”

“I’ll go get the TV queued up,” Sam hopped up with a smile, wiping away the last of the wateriness from his eyes.

“Would you like me to microwave your eggs, Jack?” Cas asked, an almost-smile speaking louder than his words.

Jack looked at the angel and nodded, a small quirk playing at his own lips.

“Thank you, Cas.”

With a flutter of his trench coat, Cas and the tray disappeared out the door as well.

The boy looked back at Dean, hands resting on the hunter’s wide shoulders.

“Could I ask you for one more thing, Dean?”

Dean squeezed the boy’s waist a little tighter.

“Shoot.”

“Would you mind…”

“Yeah?”

“Could you please carry me again? Out to the TV, I mean,” the boy started playing with the hunter’s shirt collar again, glancing back and forth with the biggest goddamn puppy eyes that might’ve brought Dean to his knees had he been standing.

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes. Jack smiled when the boy felt the rumble of Dean’s laughter.

“Whatever you want, kid,” Jack leaned forward and looped his arms around the hunter’s neck, pressing his smile into the hunter’s shoulder, “Alright, saddle up, partner.”


End file.
